Looking back at my ministry from hospice care

So my feet hurt. Well, my foot and two-thirds. The podiatrist tells me that blood-starved nerves cause pain and that, given my prognosis, amputation doesn’t make sense. I have a prescription, and it’s helping. Still, my feet hurt. All the time.

The pain sits just on the edge of real discomfort, which means that it can sap a lot of mental attention if I let it. The trick is not to. Stimulating conversation, a good book, or a cleverly written television show can provide just the right distraction.

But I can distract my thoughts only so long before my brain nudges me and I think, Oh yeah, my feet hurt. So I have decided to use my pain as a spiritual exercise. Each time my brain reminds me of the pain, I will pray. I will close my eyes, let my spirit wander, and pray about whatever God sends spinning through my neurons and dancing upon my heart.